


the hardest part

by cosmicwoosan



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Angst, Biting, Bottom Choi San, Finger Sucking, Gay Sex, Hair-pulling, Hate Sex, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Rough Sex, Smut, Top Jung Wooyoung, Unhealthy Relationships, Unsafe Sex, san cheated on wooyoung with mingi oop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-02 09:55:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20706224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicwoosan/pseuds/cosmicwoosan
Summary: It's knowing when to let go.or, they rekindle the flame for one more night.





	the hardest part

**Author's Note:**

> was just listening to some 5sos and thought, hey, let's write an angsty smut piece based on babylon bc why not
> 
> also because i suck at smut but am pretty good at angst so why not combine the two?
> 
> (this is so shit i'm so terrible at smut i'm sorry)

To say Wooyoung is wrecked is an understatement.

He doesn't hate San. He doesn't. He has a gut feeling that he'll never be able to despite the gaping hole in his heart that none other than San caused. No, he'd loved San for so long, and he's pretty sure he still does, and he hates himself for it.

He doesn't leave his apartment for days. Maybe even a week. He calls out of work, saying that he's coming down with something, when in reality it's a case of the heartbroken blues because his now-ex boyfriend had cheated on him.

Well, he doesn't know if they're technically exes yet. Upon the discovery, he'd thrown a fit of anger, guilt, and sadness which involved a lot of screaming, crying, and pounding his fists against his poor apartment walls. He'd called San that night, leaving him a cryptic voicemail because the bastard didn't pick up his phone that simply said, "I know what you did. Don't ever talk to me again."

It wasn't an "official" breakup. Wooyoung knows that to be technically true. It sure as hell feels like one, but his heart still aches for San to come back.

Wooyoung could let him back in if he wants to, and _god, _he really, really wants to. After he'd left the voicemail, San left plenty of his own. Wooyoung had counted thirty-six text messages and twelve voicemails, none of which he responded to because _he never wants to talk to Choi San __again, _but that's not the truth.

He can't tell what's true anymore. He _knows _he shouldn't let San back into his life, not when San had cheated on him with _Mingi _of all people. It's crushing his self-esteem, knowing that San would give him up just for a few fucks with Mingi, when he knows Mingi wouldn't give San the time of day otherwise.

Mingi is one of the worst kinds of people, and maybe San choosing him over Wooyoung makes him one of the worst as well. Wooyoung doesn't want to think that.

He wants to keep his memories of San pure in his mind, times when they'd smiled and laughed together, kissing over the sounds of late night talk shows and making love on the living room sofa. He wants to keep San as a good memory rather than a rancid one, but now, Wooyoung doesn't know if he can do that.

But he really, _really _wants to.

Yunho tries to get him back out there again. He tells his roommate over and over again, "You just need to get out there again! Forget about him!", but he can't seem to understand that Choi San could've been the love of his life if he didn't squash his heart between his two unholy fingers. Yunho looks at him hopelessly every single time he invites him out to the club, but he gets it. He leaves Wooyoung alone to his misery.

He doesn't eat right and doesn't get much sleep. All he can think about is that stupid fucking Song Mingi fucking San into a mattress and it makes his goddamn blood boil. Yunho has scolded him numerous times for just screaming at random points in the night as he tries to block out the thought of San moaning another man's name. He absolutely fucking hates it and Mingi and himself.

Wooyoung ignores all of the messages and voicemails. He blocks San on all social media, though with each passing day he finds his fingers hovering over the 'unblock' button because he wants to. He shouldn't, but he wants San back. He wants San to come crawling back to him, appear right on his doorstep in the pouring fucking rain, beg for forgiveness, and set things straight again.

One night, while he's listening to his "songs for a rainy day" playlist, his sorrows get the best of him and he listens to all twelve of San's voicemails.

"Wooyoung, please, I'm sorry. Please, when you get this message, call me back. Please, I just wanna talk. Please."

"I'm so sorry, Wooyoung. It was a huge fucking mistake; I fucked up so badly and I know. Just please give me a chance to explain. I'm sorry."

"Wooyoung, I'm getting so worried. Please just text me or call me back. I'm literally just... never mind. Please get back to me when you can."

On the fourth one, he's sobbing. "Wooyoung, I miss you so much. Please, let me talk to you, I just... god, I'm such a fuck up, I just want to hear your voice again. I'm so sorry, just please call me back."

"Please, please don't hate me. I'm so fucking sorry and I'm crying and I don't know what to do. Just please, please call me back."

The rest of the voicemails and text messages repeat those same words over and over again, and Wooyoung can't help the tug on his heartstrings and the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He misses him too. He wants to talk to him too.

He knows he shouldn't.

Biting his lip, his thumb lingers above the 'block' button that would cut San off from calling or texting him ever again. The final straw. The last resort. With the thoughts, messages, and voicemails circling through his entire body, he finally presses it, and he sobs as he does so.

It's done. Choi San is done. _They're _done.

(Wooyoung really doesn't want them to be).

*

"Are you sure you don't want to come with me?" Yunho asks as he shoves his keys into his pocket.

Wooyoung sends him a tiny smile. He's getting better, slowly but surely. It's been two whole weeks since he'd pressed that button, and while he still feels temptation to undo it, he's doing better. He's already burned all of San's possessions (much to Yunho's dismay since he could've set fire to the whole house), and he's back to work. He's finally eating properly again, his sleeping schedule isn't ideal but it's working out for him, and he's finally feeling _some _relief.

He's gone out with Yunho maybe twice, and it's been okay. He likes Yunho's friends, but every time they go out, Wooyoung finds himself thinking _none of them are San, _in which case he just ruins the entire night for himself.

"I'm sure," Wooyoung says as he shovels a mouthful of cereal into his face. "I just kinda wanna watch Queer Eye to forget about my problems."

Yunho shakes his head and laughs. "Right, well, if you need anything just let me know." Wooyoung nods, sending Yunho off on his merry way to get drunk and maybe laid.

Wooyoung sighs, running his fingers through his hair. He munches his cereal, which for some reason is one of his favorite nighttime snacks, and puts on a "party at home" playlist. Maybe a little wine will help him unwind. Drinking alone is something he doesn't mind.

Finishing up the rest of his cereal, he notices a flash outside of his window, followed by a low rumbling. He frowns, taking his phone out to check the weather forecast. He swears it hadn't mentioned a thunderstorm earlier in the day, but he doesn't mind. As long as he doesn't lose power, he thinks his night will be okay.

He showers quickly with the intent of getting wine drunk as soon as possible. He can't remember the last time he's had a night to himself, his music, a glass of wine and some instant ramyeon. If Yunho remembers to buy weed from time to time, he helps himself to some of it, but unfortunately, Yunho has "cut back" on his purchases because "there are more important things than weed, Wooyoung."

He'll settle for the wine though. As he pours himself a glass, he shuffles his playlist, takes a seat on the sofa, wraps himself in a blanket, and closes his eyes.

The rain is pouring down much harder now, accompanied by the occasional lightning strike and booming thunder, but Wooyoung loves it. He even lowers the volume of his music a little just to listen to the voice of the thunder. He sighs deeply, taking his first sip, allowing the bitter liquid to trickle down his throat. It pools in his stomach, making it flutter. He smiles to himself.

Fuck San. Wooyoung thinks he's decently attractive with nice thighs and an above average ass. He could _totally _get some action if he wanted. And part of him _does _want to. He wants to be able to fuck somebody without thinking _this used to be San. _He wants to be able to not be plagued by constant memories of when they _were _happy together, before San decided to throw it all away for a quick fuck with a guy with a big dick but a small personality.

Wooyoung rolls his eyes. He's better off without San, but it still fucking _hurts._

He wants San permanently removed from his brain. If surgeons could extract that one part that holds all the information, memories, the fine details about San from his brain, he would pay his entire life savings to do so. However, until science advances that far, he has no choice but live and cope. He'll stick to his wine and "party at home" playlist, soft tunes that could lull him to sleep, but hold lyrics that remind him of San.

Maybe he should change the music.

When he picks up his phone, there's a knock at the door. Frowning, he sets his phone back down and sets the glass of wine on the coffee table before standing up and waddling over to the door, the blanket still cocooning his body. Without much thought, he opens it to see none other than Choi San, hair and body soaked from the rain.

Wooyoung nearly drops the blanket.

"Wooyoung—"

"What the _fuck _are you doing here?" Wooyoung seethes, already feeling his heart begin to race.

"Please, hear me out—"

"Did you _not _get the message when I blocked your dumb ass on everything? I don't want to talk to you!"

"Wooyoung, just _please, _listen to me. I'm not here to get you back or anything like that."

His eyes are red, swollen from crying it seems, and his eyebrows are scrunched as if he's already trying to hold back tears. "I know I can never get you back. I _know. _What I did was shitty and unforgivable. But just please let me talk to you."

Wooyoung glares at him, helpless and drenched. Glancing past him, he doesn't even see his car. "Did you... did you walk here?"

"Y-Yeah."

"Why?"

"My roommate borrowed it to go somewhere."

"That's insane, San. That's what, a thirty minute walk?"

San shrugs. "Forty-five, give or take."

Even though it hadn't been raining for forty-five minutes, San is still completely drenched. He must have cried on the way. Wooyoung has never seen him look so small.

It's a bad idea, but his heart is clawing at his chest, begging him to open up his mouth and let San in. He knows he shouldn't. He knows it's dangerous, it's bad news. Never let a cheating ex back into your life, he's always heard. But San is standing at his front doorstep, clearly distraught, and soaked from head to toe.

Wooyoung is still sneering at him as he steps aside to let San in. He motions his head inside. "Get in."

San looks flabbergasted as he steps in, immediately slipping off his shoes. "I'll try not to make a mess," he says.

Wooyoung turns around, rolling his eyes as he thinks, _you've already made enough of one. _Still, he makes his way to the bathroom where he retrieves three towels for San to dry himself off with so that he doesn't _actually _make a mess.

San's mouth twitches in an attempt to smile. He pats his body down graciously, scruffing his hair into one of the towels, all while standing in front of the door, not having moved an inch. He'd always been considerate like that, thinking of others when he could without even _really _thinking about it.

If only he'd _thought _about the consequences before he went and fucked Song Mingi.

"Th-thanks, Wooyoung," San says. He holds the towels close to him, still making sure he doesn't drip water anywhere before shuffling further inside. Wooyoung nods in acknowledgement, padding back over to the couch while San has a seat at the kitchen island.

Before he knows it, he's downing the entire glass of wine before slamming it back down on the coffee table, his angry gaze fixed straight ahead of him at the blank television, lyrics of angst ringing in the background. All he can hear is the thunder, the pounding rain, and San's breathing.

"Wooyoung, I know you're mad at me—"

"That's an understatement."

San sighs, evidently hiding frustration, but Wooyoung can't help but think that he has no fucking right to be. How _dare _San show up to his doorstep while the wound is still fresh, basically tearing it open once again and reminding him that yes, he still exists. He cheated.

As if Wooyoung didn't have enough reminders already, now, the most significant one is here, in the flesh.

Of course it's an understatement.

"Wooyoung, can you please just let me talk?"

Wooyoung scoffs. "You come to _my _front doorstep, soaked from the rain, telling me you're not here to get me back but that you want to _talk. _May I remind you that you _cheated _on me. What could you _possibly _have to say?" He pauses to breathe before he can say anything else.

He doesn't even look over at San. He doesn't want to, he _can't, _in fear that he might forgive him.

(He wants to. He doesn't want to).

San's breathing only seems to get louder. Wooyoung is tempted to turn the volume up. "I... I guess I just wanted to clear things up."

That makes Wooyoung's head spin around in San's direction. He's resting an elbow on the table, his head propped up on his hand. The pained expression hasn't left his face. "You want to... clear things up," Wooyoung repeats slowly.

Unbelievable.

He wants to clear things up. What _is _there to clear up? He cheated. That's it. There's nothing more to discuss.

Yet here he is.

"You didn't respond to any of my voicemails or messages and basically dropped me without giving me a chance to explain," San says, and that sets Wooyoung's blood on fire. He stands up, letting the blanket slip from his grasp.

"You're kidding me, right?" Wooyoung laughs humorlessly, exhaling through his teeth. He steps over the blanket, rage building in his veins as he only gets closer to the source of his fury. "Why the _fuck _would I want to hear an explanation as to why you decided to go and fuck Mingi? Because you were horny and I wasn't good enough? Because you were drunk? Whatever the reason is, I don't fucking _care._"

San tilts his head back, his eyes closing as he exhales. "Yes, Wooyoung. I was horny. It wasn't because you weren't good enough, and I wasn't drunk. But I was horny and curious because people were saying how good he was in bed, and I saw an opportunity and I took it."

"And how the hell is that supposed to make me feel better?"

There's a slight pause before San's head falls back into place and he says, "It's not."

And that makes Wooyoung freeze. "I never said I was trying to make you feel better. I said I wanted to clear things up," San states like it's _that _simple.

It does nothing to calm his heart.

"Trust me, Wooyoung, I _know _I fucked up and I can't fix anything. Like I said, I'm not here to get you back or anything like that. You just deserve an explanation."

"I didn't _ask _for one, San!" Wooyoung cries, voice breaking in the middle. "You really think I _want _to know why you fucked Mingi? Like I said, I don't _care _why; you just did it. Whatever stupid reason you did it for isn't going to 'clear things up,' especially when I didn't ask for it! You can just _fuck off, _San. To hell with you and your bullshit explanations!"

San bites his lip, his shoulders shrinking inwards. "I regret it, you know," he mutters.

"Oh, I bet you do," Wooyoung spits, shaking his head. "Whatever, San. You can go be with Mingi for all I care. He'll break your fucking heart like you did to me."

"I'm not with Mingi, Wooyoung!" San suddenly shouts, standing up from his seat. "I haven't even _talked _to him since that night! We fucked and never spoke to each other again, because that's all he was to me, Woo. A fuck. That's _all _he was."

"Oh, and that's supposed to make it okay? Because _all he was _was a fuck?" Wooyoung retorts.

"I didn't say that makes it okay! Jesus, Wooyoung, won't you listen to me for one fucking second?"

"_You're _the one coming in here and telling me that you fucked Mingi because you were horny and curious. I didn't _ask _you to tell me. Why the hell _should _I listen to you?"

"Well _you're _the one who let me in!"

And fuck, he's right.

Wooyoung did let him in. He had all the power not to. He could've told San to fuck off right then and there, slam the front door in his face, leave him in the pouring rain to sulk in his misery just as Wooyoung did for weeks. But he let him in.

Maybe it was the hopelessness. The weakness Wooyoung both felt in himself and saw in San. Perhaps it was out of pity. Not wanting to see someone he loved (loves) standing in the rain.

His heart feels like it's drowning.

San takes careful steps towards Wooyoung, who's frozen in place as he tries not to cry again. He'd finally stopped shedding tears after so long, and they're back now. Because Choi San is back. And is making his way towards his fragile body. "I didn't want to," Wooyoung whimpers, his lip quivering.

"I'm sorry, Wooyoung," San says. Wooyoung is grateful that he's at least keeping some distance. "Look, I've got all of that out of the way. I can go now—"

"Don't bother," Wooyoung says bitterly, teeth clenched, eyes narrowing as he realizes...

"Were you _really _walking here to tell me all of this shit? Or did you just happen to be near my place when it started raining?"

San frowns, raising an eyebrow. "Does it matter?"

"Answer the question."

San glances down at his feet. "Yes, I was walking here with the intention of talking to you, Wooyoung. When it started raining, I ran here."

"You walked forty-five minutes to tell me that you fucked Mingi because you were horny and curious." Wooyoung doesn't even bother forming it into a question.

"N-no, Wooyoung." San sighs. "I guess that was part of it, maybe, but... you just disappeared. Flat out blocked me on everything. I had no way to contact you, and... it was just eating me alive, you not having any sort of closure."

His tone is softening, and Wooyoung can already feel himself getting weaker. His rage settles. His heart slows, though not completely. He's still furious, understandably so, but when San, the one man Wooyoung has ever loved, is standing right in front of him, telling him he wanted closure when Wooyoung never even gave him the chance...

He shouldn't feel guilty. He did nothing wrong.

Then why is his heart aching for the man who betrayed him?

"I know you didn't ask for an explanation, and I'm sorry that I gave you one," San says. "But... I don't know. Cutting ties like that so suddenly without even talking about anything... it just really sat wrong with me. But I promise, Wooyoung, after tonight, you will never see me again."

When Wooyoung finally looks into San's eyes, he sees the man he loved. Loves. Weak. Vulnerable and guilty.

(He wants to see San again).

"Just... tell me one thing." Wooyoung isn't sure if he even wants to know.

"What?"

"Was he worth it?"

San nearly gawks at him in disbelief. When his face straightens out, he's back to being vulnerable. "God, no, Wooyoung." He sighs, smiling dryly. "The rumors weren't true."

Wooyoung feels like he should be feeling relief, but his brain feels like mush, having San in his apartment right in front of him, telling him that _no, _Mingi wasn't worth losing him, but he still _did _it. He still cheated. Betrayed him, crushed his heart between his two fingers.

"Pretty sure I'll regret losing you for the rest of my life," San says.

And for some ungodly reason, that breaks Wooyoung's heart even more than San's betrayal did.

But San is still here, standing in the space between his living room and his kitchen. _He hasn't lost him yet._

"Well, you're still here, aren't you?"

This is a very, very bad idea, and Wooyoung knows it. San looks at him questioningly, brows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You haven't lost me yet."

Bad. Bad idea.

Yet he finds his feet dragging him forward, closer to San, the man who tore his heart in two yet still managed to keep it. He walks until he's face-to-face with him, until he can feel San's heavy, ragged breathing on his face. It feels familiar.

"Wooyoung," San says, suddenly dark, almost warning, threatening. "I don't think this is a good idea."

"It's not," Wooyoung concedes, "but you said it yourself. I'll never see you again."

Bad bad bad. Bad idea. Terrible, awful, disastrous idea.

"So make it worth it," Wooyoung says.

And in that moment, it feels as if Wooyoung's world breaks. When San's lips crash against his, pushing both of them backwards with a force Wooyoung has never known. When San's hands roam his body like they used to. When his tongue is shoved so far in his mouth that he can barely breathe. When the two tear off each other's clothes like it's both the first and last time.

(Well, it's one of those things).

Wooyoung bends San over the armrest of the sofa and runs his fingers along his spine, causing him to shudder. They trail down to the cup of his ass, gripping it harshly before Wooyoung bends over him, fitting his cock on the curve of San's ass. "T-There's lube in my wallet," San chokes out.

Wooyoung scoffs, _always prepared, _as he bends down to pick San's wallet out of the pocket of his slacks, and sure enough, there are two foils of lube. He pulls one out, promptly tearing it open with his teeth before drizzling it onto the cleft of San's ass. His knees nearly buckle at the sudden cold sensation.

Wooyoung's fingers graze over his hole teasingly before pressing one against the rim, slowly sliding it inside. San whimpers, his knees folding as Wooyoung holds him up by his hip with his free hand. His finger wriggles around inside him, reaching places that he knows all too well and _will never know again._

The rain continues to pour, pattering onto the roof. The playlist is still on shuffle, slow, sensual beats ringing throughout the living room. As Wooyoung adds another finger, San's helpless moan is added to the mix.

"H-Hurry, please, Wooyoung," San begs.

The younger responds by teasing a third finger against his hole, not needing it, but he loves the sound of San's whines, he always has, and he wants to make this last as long as possible because _he'll never hear them again._

But he's trembling with anticipation, his cock aching, so he tears the second pack open and pours some over his length and the rest on San's hole. Teasing the tip at the entrance, Wooyoung presses forward agonizingly slow, and San's hands come up to grip the armrest. "F-Fuck, Woo."

"Don't call me that," Wooyoung growls as he pushes the rest of the way in. "You don't get to call me that anymore."

Lust and hatred burn through his veins as he draws back and pushes forward again, the first thrust making San cry out in a way that's both arousing and saddening, though Wooyoung can't bring himself to feel the latter. He builds up a steady rhythm quickly, San's hushed, rapid moans egging him on, but he wants to hear _more, _hear San moan in a way that will make him forget about breaking his heart.

If only it were the other way around.

Wooyoung grabs a fistful of San's hair and yanks it backwards, pulling his head up. His lips attack the base of his neck, over his shoulder as he bites down, _hard, _and San almost screams, his high-pitched moan drowning out the beats of the playlist and the rain altogether.

"H-Harder, _please,_" San cries, hand coming down to stroke himself.

Wooyoung both bites and thrusts harder, and the noises coming from San's mouth are unlike any others that Wooyoung has heard. They're absolutely filthy, shameless, like he's got nothing to lose.

(Because he's about to lose everything).

With his teeth still sinking into San's shoulder, Wooyoung swats San's hand out of the way and replaces it with his own, his grip hard on San's throbbing length. He jerks it in time with his thrusts, snapping his hips up, ramming straight into his prostate.

"Did Mingi fuck you like this?" he hisses into the skin of San's shoulder. His lips kiss up towards San's ear, biting down on the lobe. "Did he?"

San shakes his head vigorously. "N-No, he could n-never."

Wooyoung scoffs, pulling away from San's shoulder but leaving his fingers tangled in San's hair, soaked with both rain and sweat. "No one will ever fuck me like you did, Wooyoung."

_Did._

On the upstroke, Wooyoung closes his grip tighter around San's tip, gathering the precome on his fingers and raising his hand to San's mouth. His fingers snake inside, San's tongue instantly coiling around them, tasting himself. Wooyoung can feel his teeth digging into the skin of his fingers, but he doesn't mind one bit.

He's making it worth it.

He doesn't think he's ever fucked San this hard.

When he rips his fingers out of San's mouth, the older coughs, snuffed out by another moan as Wooyoung takes hold of his dick again, wet and dripping with precome. "I'm so—_ah!_—close, Wooyoung, please—h-harder."

And who is Wooyoung to deny him?

He increases his pace, his own orgasm fast approaching when San suddenly keens, and he can feel San's come spurting onto his hand, coating his fingers. He drags them up San's torso and up to his mouth again, where San gladly accepts and closes his lips around them again.

"Shit, San," Wooyoung grunts, and with one last thrust, he pulls out, his hand covered in San's load jerking himself off to completion along San's back. San's knees finally give out then, and he collapses onto the floor, panting.

Wooyoung stands with hand covered in come, looking down at the wreck that San is, red bite marks imprinted on his skin, a complete, _beautiful _mess.

One that he will never see again.

As the two wordlessly dress themselves again, the rain lightens, and soon enough, all Wooyoung can hear is the sound of his playlist and San's sniffling. Wooyoung doesn't look at him as he puts his shoes back on, still damp like the rest of his clothes.

"Goodbye, Wooyoung."

Wooyoung stares straight ahead of him as the door opens and closes. The playlist repeats, humming words of heartbreak that he can feel all too well now.

The constant pull of his heart and the guilt shot straight through his chest makes him realize that maybe the temporary euphoria before the parting was indeed a terrible idea.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/cosmicwoosan)   
[cc](https://curiouscat.me/cosmicwoosan)


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